


Why breaking your arm is Not A Good Idea...(or is it?)

by SkellyMyDude



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Awkwardness, Gen, M/M, Slow Burn, arm breaking, because unlike some writers i dont like torturing the people i write about, but like, dirk likes my little pony, haha duh, hm yeah, i guess?, kankri is There, nothing particularly bad will happen in the future, oh also dont actually break your arm guys it wont end well, oh also furries are mentioned, only implied, probably, so uh, the whole thing is very awkward, yay!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-05 17:17:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkellyMyDude/pseuds/SkellyMyDude
Summary: John just wanted to get out of school work.Well, that failed miserably, and some anime douche has to help him write, what with his broken arm. Existing.Dang it.----------I wrote this for supernovaniall--I hope you like this bro!!





	1. In Which Awkwardness is...Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seb/gifts).



> They are both just. So, so, awkward. 
> 
>  
> 
> The awkward teenagers.
> 
> It is them.

Breaking one's arm had its perks. For example, school work. With a school in which everything was still done on paper, not screen, breaking your arm was the easiest way to get out of work. At least, theoretically. These were the thoughts that were running through John's head at the moment. 

Staring down at the ground in front of him, suddenly everything seemed small. From the top of the slide to... there, the ground, the earth that John was about to jump to. The brown, green-speckled surface on which he was about to attempt to break his arm on... that was how far he had to go. 

"It's ok," John muttered. "I'll be fine, this'll be worth it."

Taking a deep breath and looking around nervously,John shifted his arm in front of his body and stepped off the edge, ground rushing up to meet him.

\------

"So, John, this is Dirk. He will be the one writing for you during classes."

So. Turns out the school had a solution for broken arms. 

Standing next to the teacher in front of John was a student, about a year above him if John's memory was serving right. Or rather, lack of, as John didn't recognize the guy in front of him. Glancing at his teacher, looking at the sharp, pointed shades and back, he chewed his lip, thinking. 

"Mr. Vantas, uh, will he be with me for...every class?"

Looking at the fingerless gloves, the triangular shades and the spiky blonde hair, John was heavily reminded of an anime character. It would've been funny if it hadn't been so weirdly intimidating. Dirk’s impassive gaze, despite the direction being unknown, seemed to be meeting John's eyes, making him feel smaller than the bark resting where he had fallen just a week ago.

"Well, yes, he would be. You need to be able to get all your school work done, and while it is unfortunate that you have broken your arm, I'm afraid you cannot miss work just for that."

Frowning at Dirk, turning back to Mr. Vantas, John opened his mouth.

“But doesn’t--”

“Dirk has finished his semesters work already. He is completely free to help you.”

Now looking at Dirk in shock, John closed his mouth. It seemed Dirk was smirking a bit, but the expression was so minute that John wasn’t sure he wasn’t imagining it out of spite.

“To reiterate, Dirk will be writing for you. That means you will tell him what to write, not that he will be writing his own answers for you. I won’t be permitting cheating.”

Now looking off to the side, avoiding the gaze of both Mr. Vantas and...Dirk? Maybe? It felt like he was staring at John, for some reason. John shifted uncomfortably, his slinged arm itched slightly, making him rub it against his side awkwardly. 

Mr. Vantas had now gone on to talk about the morals of cheating, how it would affect further schooling and job opportunities. Honestly, John had zoned out almost as soon as he recognised where it was leading, and Dirk’s face hadn’t changed so maybe he wasn’t listening at all. 

This entire situation was making John very, very uncomfortable.

\------

“Ssssssssooooooooo… Dirk, right?”

It had been about ten minutes since Mr. Vantas had left. Ten very, very tense minutes. For John at least. It was hard to tell with Dirk.

Currently, they were standing in the hallway just outside the school library, and Dirk had simply been standing there with his arms crossed, seeming to be staring into the space in front of them. What he was looking at, John had no idea.

The silence from before John’s words was repeated with what seemed to be more intensity, the seconds stretching out longer than they really were in a way that only unease could do.

“Where’s your first class.”

John jumped. Whipping around, he just missed the slight snort of amusement. Dirk was still facing forward, arms crossed, face blank. Peering at him, John chewed his lip before kneeling down to his school bag resting on the floor, unzipping one of the pockets one-handed and shuffling through the various papers and miscellaneous item before pulling a small sheet from the mess. Unfolding it on the floor, John scanned through the rows before his eyes landed on the box with his first class listed, along with the time block and the room number.

“Its, uh, room 41B, English?”

“Sweet, lets go.”

Unfolding his arms, Dirk leaned down and grabbed a backpack from the floor, pulling it over his shoulder with a single movement before tilting his head towards John, who was still crouched on the floor next to his bag. Stuffing the slip of paper into the front pocket, John attempted to mimic Dirk’s actions, resulting in him getting smacked in the face with his bag and jostling his arm painfully. Wincing, John steadied himself before looking up at Dirk, avoiding his face and simply staring at his chest. Huh. Guess he was into...My Little Pony? What. Mouth thinning to a line, he pushed the thought away. 

“Lets, let's get going, yeah.”

Dirk simply nodded, falling in step as they started walking. 

They paced through the halls in silence, and no one was surprised by this. No one. The amount of silence between them happened so often it wasn’t funny, or interesting, or unexpected. The halls filled with the chatter of every student except Dirk and John, and that was nothing out of place.

“Hey, do you watch MLP or something?”

Dirk turned his head to face John, as if offended by Johns blatant disregard for expectations, and their fulfillment. 

“...Yes, I do. It’s a great show, with many wise lessons that have shaped my life and many others in ways so profound and elaborate, the haters would never understand. The true beauty of multi-coloured ponies learning to bond and deal with issues through something as simple as a race to shake the leaves off of a tree, or to rebel against the social standards of a high class, such as the many equines at the Grand Galloping Gala, never ceases to amaze and inspire.”

Oh.

“Oh.” 

Staring at the floor, John was quiet for a bit.

“I’ve watched a few episodes. Its cool.”

“Yeah, it is.”

\------

English was such an overrated subject. Why learn how to write if you’re only writing for the teacher anyway?

Everyone was sitting at a desk, grouped together in the select way that only teenagers could decide, an unknown pattern and social code that must be followed. John and Dirk were situated at the very back, John resting his chin on his unbroken hand. Dirk had a book in front of him, and was doodling in the margins as the teacher spoke.

“Hey, how did you get your semesters work done so fast? And before the lessons came up?”

Pausing in his sketching, a glorious rendition of a mechanical horse doing...something, Dirk shifted his shades a bit before answering.

“I was home-schooled.” 

“I was home-schooled once!” John paused. “It was pretty boring. I only had three friends, they’re all online” 

Nodding, Dirk continued his drawing, not saying anything in response. John hummed, looking off to the side.

Everything was so very, very awkward.

Leaning down to the bag at his side, wincing at the pain in his arm, John opened the front pocket and pulled out his timetable. Pulling himself back up, his back cracked in a way that sounded both painful and satisfying. Kind of like a knife thudding on a chopping board. 

Grinning to himself, John took a moment to crack his knuckles, one by one. Hey, it felt nice! Dirk seemed to mind, as his head whipped around when John started, and while he did go back to his art quickly after, he still seemed uncomfortable. Only a little though. Mentally shrugging, John finished his memorized routine and then unfolded the piece of paper in front of him. 

Oh. Maths. 

“Uuuuggghhhhhh….”

Dirk tilted his head a bit. He said nothing. Hm.

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuggggggghhhh….” John closed his eyes, frowning. “Notice meeeeeeeeeeee…”

He paused, opening one eye to look at what Dirk’s drawing had evolved to. A highly stylised horse, with a person sketched in to stand next to it, wearing the same shades Dirk and the horse were wearing.

Wait.

“Hey, wait Dirk is that you? As a horse?” 

Dirk opened his mouth. Closed it. He sketched in a few more lines on the hoof, before putting his pencil down.

“It’s called a ponysona.”

He turned his head to face John, eye brows slightly raised as if in challenge.

“...Oh, so like, a fursona? A furry thing?”

Dirks eyebrow fell, then both raised in sync.

“...”

John shifted uncomfortably.

“...Um...my cousins a furry?”

Even with the shades on, it was obvious Dirks eyes were empty of emotion.

“...Sure, its a furry thing.”

“Do you have like, fake ears and stuff?”

“What do you think.”

Humming, John looked down at his desk, fiddling with a pencil. Obviously thinking the conversation was over, Dirk turned back to his drawing. Both were silent.

“I think…” 

Dirk’s pencil ground against the paper. Grabbing his eraser, he started scrubbing at the dark grey mark.

“I think you don’t,” John said with some finality. “I think you just uh, you just draw that sort of stuff?” He fumbled and dropped the pencil onto the table, frowning at it and pushing it around the desk.

The bell rang, and nothing else was said.

\------

Math was spent in relative silence, the teacher speaking, students ignoring. Dirk, now with Johns graph-paper math book in front of him, was simply staring into space, seeming to be gazing at the teacher. He wasn’t though, his head having tilted down ever so slowly as the speaking continued. Occasionally, a student sighed, or giggled. 

The teacher started moving to her desk. John, having been simply glaring at his arm, looked up. Were they answering questions now?

“Ok, you guys will be working on pages 56 and 57, you know what to do.”

John did not know what to do.

A thud was heard, and Dirk jerked up from the desk, his forehead slightly red and his mouth open in shock. Face falling face into a calm, blank expression, he turned to John. 

“So, what are we doing.”

Deciding to ignore what was obviously Dirk hitting his head on the desk, John simply shrugged.

“Dunno. Pages 56 and 57? I wasn’t really listening.”

Nodding, Dirk looked down at Johns backpack, resting on the ground behind him. He frowned slightly. Obviously because he recognized the glorious face that was Matthew McConaughey, and couldn’t believe that such an amazing actor could be so amazingly rendered on the back of a simple backpack! Yes, that made sense. Surely there was no other reason. Not. At. All.

“So.”

“So?”

Dirk looked at John. John looked at Dirk. A vacant smile was rested on his face. Slowly, it dropped to an uncomfortable line. Dirk tilted his head down to the bag, and John’s eyes followed to look at it. There was a long silence.

“...Are you going to get the workbook out.”

John jumped. 

“Oh! Yeah, yeah…”

Grimacing slightly, he leant down and pulled the bag up to his lap, struggling with the zip for a bit before managing to get it open. 

Dirk was still watching him.

Now frowning slightly at himself, John jerked the workbook out and dropped the backpack to the ground, squishing the Great Mccon’s face into the rough carpet. Dang it. 

Dropping it onto the desk with a sigh, John leant down and rested his head against the desk. 

Poor Matthew McConaughey. His face didn’t deserve this cruelty. 

Watching him for a few seconds more, Dirk slid the book over and flipped through the pages, stopping at 56. Trigonometry. Ok, this was easy enough, they were only focusing on right-angled triangles.

“So...what are we doing exactly?” John turned his head to look at Dirk, eyes flicking between the book and his face. Dirk stayed silent for a bit as John slowly lifted his head from the desk with a groan. Hunched over, arm folded against his chest, it was very difficult to see the page. His glasses were dirty, which didn’t help much on the vision side of things.

With a sigh, John leant over to look at the book. His pencil fell, and rolled under the table. 

“So, question one.” He paused. Squinted at the page. “...I don’t know what this means.”

“It’s pretty simple, just, read the paragraph above it. It explains it all.”

John just gave him a blank look. 

“How about, you obviously know aaall about this, why don’t you do the work for me?”

“...No.”

“Augh, why not? You know this stuff, I don’t!” He paused. “Wait, you were homeschooled right?”

A nod. 

“Then...why are you here, doing this? You don’t go to this school?”

Dirk sighed slightly. 

“I was homeschooled, my bro wasn’t. I’m helping out because he asked me to help his, quote ‘dumbass friend with no self-preservation’ un-quote. Except it was originally much longer and involved a long tangent about pears. I abbreviated it for you. You’re welcome.” 

“Wait…you’re Dave’s brother?”

Dirk gave him a flat look. 

“How’d ya guess,” he said, voice dry and emotionless.

John squinted. “I don’t know, but it’s definitely not because of your personality! Dave is way cooler, you’re like...not cool! At all!”  
Oh, burn. John smiled brightly. He felt personally attacked for some reason and he would fight back!

“Says you.”

Really badly. Darn, he only said two words and John’s totally sick burn was ice cold, frozen in its tracks. 

“Uh, well, yo--”

“You don’t even know basic trig man, try again when you can answer the questions on the page.”

Oof. Metaphorically clutching at his chest, John grasped for the straws that existed only in imagination.

“W-well, how can you expect me to answer those if I haven’t even been taught how?”

Dirk shrugged.

“Should’ve paid attention earlier, bro.. It’s not my problem if you fail.”

“Argh! It, just, give me the book!” Scrabbling at the pages of the workbook, he pulled it over by the pages with one hand and glared at the numbers printed on the page. How was he expected to know this? It wasn’t even helpful, he wanted to be a comedian, not some...triangle expert!

With a harsh sigh, he tried his best to understand what the words were saying to do. He was so angry though, the words just flew out of his head! 

A few minutes passed, John frowning at the pages, Dirk staring into space. 

With an abrupt shout, John pushed the book off the desk--then quickly pulled his hand back and shook it in pain, grumbling to himself.Head snapping to face him, blinking at him from behind his shades, Dirk quirked the side of his mouth down. 

“This is so dumb,” John muttered. “I’m so dumb, no, I’m so, ugh, I’m so done, I don’t care if I fail this is just, ugh, I don’t even…”

The workbook, now facedown on the floor, was resting on its pages and slowly sinking lower and lower. John sunk with it, careful not to jostle his arm but otherwise collapsing down into a John-pile on the floor, head and neck resting against the seat of the chair uncomfortably. 

Why were school chairs so uncomfortable? Just, hard plastic chairs, the teachers don’t have to deal with that. They get cushions and wheels, how is that fair in any way?

\-----

“John.”

A muffled hum of acknowledgment sounded from under the desk.

“Are you going to get up?”

There was a pause, and John shifted the chair behind him slightly.

“Nah, not planning on it.”

Looking down at the black-haired boy under the desk, Dirk nudged him with his foot, getting only a grunt and a weak attempt at a kick in response. 

“Ok, well, if you ever decide to move don’t tell me. I’m busy.”

John snorted. 

“With what, your ponysona art?”

An eye roll was his response. Then he remembered John couldn’t see that.

“...Sure, yeah.”

A small sigh, and they both fell silent. Again.


	2. Staple Removers are...Interesting. Yknow, Those Ones with the Claws?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staple removers are brutal.
> 
>  
> 
> Especially for sleeves.

It had been a week since John had gained his second shadow, and that week felt very, very long. Time warped around the two, stretching and growing within the 6-hour span to feel as if it were 12, each class dragging along at John’s feet to slow his steps through the minutes.

School was slow-going. 

Over the course of the week, 5 of John’s books had been vandalised with images of horses, comics with strange, hidden meanings and, in one case, Matthew McCage. 

Matthew McCage, a drawing of John’s request, was a truly amazing sight. A fusion of the Great McConaughey and Nick Cage, Matthew McCage adorned the cover of John’s english book with a large, uncomfortable grin. In the very corner was a small pair of shades, the same as Dirks. 

Currently in English, gazing at the drawing with a small smile was John. Dirk was next to him as always, fiddling with a staple-remover, claw style. The staple-remover was claw style, not Dirk. Although, at times he was so intimidating it was as if he had claws.

Then he’d accidentally shut it on his sleeve and get it stuck. Significantly less intimidating then. In fact, that had just happened. Dirk was tugging at his sleeve, trying to get it off, but it was too late. The sharp points had pierced through the knit fabric multiple times, getting more and more tangled as Dirk attempted to remove them. ‘How was this even possible?’ John wondered. It simply didn’t make sense. By all accounts, this shouldn’t be a thing that could happen.

Staring at the mess unfolding in front of him was an interesting endeavor, to be sure, but the teacher was talking; John wasn’t listening and neither was Dirk, if they were to get anything done, Dirk had to be freed. John wept a metaphorical tear, knowing what must be done.

“Dirk?”

By now, Dirk was glaring at his ruined sleeve, undoubtedly full of holes. And that, that was his hand reaching for the scissors in John’s pencil case, this would not end well. Before he could get to them, John pulled away the case and grabbed Dirk’s arm, pushing it away before Dirk could grab anything.

“Dirk, let me help.” Grabbing at the sleeve, he pulled the loose fabric away from Dirk’s arm so he could see where the staple-remover was caught. Why did he even have a staple-remover? Why would he need it? As Dirk pulled at the fabric, more holes were revealed. There was a lot of damage. Dang, that staple remover was brutal. 

John really shouldn’t be laughing. That would be, so rude. Biting his lip to keep from giggling only muffled it, and of course Dirk was the only one close enough to hear.   
Now biting his tongue instead, John hummed very quietly and squinted at Dirk’s sleeve, very pointedly ignoring the glare directed at his face. He could feel it, as if there were laser pointers in Dirks eyes that had uncomfortably warm beams of light.

Finally pulling the freed staple remover from its death-grip, John hummed the success tune from Zelda. Wait, not hummed--he sang it. Quietly of course, but again, just like the laughter from only seconds before, Dirk heard it. 

There was a sudden burst of breath from Dirk, the silent laugh you get when reading something around people, or at night. John paused in his movement, staring at Dirk. That was...actually really cute? They had been together in every class for a week now, and the first time John heard something that he knew was a laugh was the quietest breath. 

Flushing slightly, John turned to stare at the teacher instead of Dirks face. Not because he was embarrassed or anything, the teacher was actually saying some pretty important stuff!

...What class was this again?

Frowning to himself, John turned back to Dirk to ask exactly that--  
“So, what are you planning on having me painstakingly copy from your verbal abilities? For the essay.”

Oh, English, right. John blinked at Dirk and said nothing. It’s not like he hadn’t...read the book they were assigned. No, he knew exactly what the essay was about.

“...You didn’t read the book did you.”

“N-no, I read it! The whole thing, last night. Like we were told to.”

Dirk raised an eyebrow. “I know for a fact you didn’t. Last night, you were playing that crappy ghostbusters game from 2009, with Dave. By the way, you’re really bad at it. How long have you been playing, three days?”

As he spoke, John’s face flipped between emotions second by second; Suspicion, shock, a brief smile, annoyance and a deep glare. “Well, excuse you mr brony-”  
Dirk sat up properly, affronted.  
“-but I have been playing that game for a year and a half. I have all the achievements, I was just going easy for Dave because it was his second time playing!”

“Yeah, and he whooped your ass bro, dunked it nearly as many times as he dunked slimer into that trap.”

John gasped dramatically, putting a hand to his chest and glaring at Dirk with dagger-sharp eyes.   
“That was a multiplayer game that I haven’t played very much, and I haven’t played it very much because I have been busting ghosts real-time in single player, the proper storyline which I’ve been working on for--”

“Dave is literally the only person existing who was willing to play such a shitty game with you.” Dirk smirked. “Admit it Egbert, my bro is the best and you have pretty much no friends.”

“Not like you can say anything! You’ve just been following me around for the past week, without talking or doing anything else!”

Dirk was silent. John stared at the McCage drawing.

“...Dave is pretty cool though.”

“Yeah.”

Tapping his finger against the cover of his book, John hummed a thoughtless tune.   
“You collect swords ri--”

“Katanas.”

“Oh. Cool.”  
Great. More awkwardness. John tilted his head up, staring at the ceiling, then to the side at the wall. “...I have like, four hammers in my room.”

“I know.”

“Creepy.”

There was a clatter as a pen fell on the ground a few metres away.

“Dave told me. And you have five.”

Lifting his head to squint at Dirk hurt, so John only tried for roughly three seconds before quitting.“That is even creepier to say. Why did you add that last part Dirk. You’re not helping yourself here.”

“I’m not trying to John. Helping myself isn’t the goal here, being creepy is the one and only thing I’m hoping to achieve.”

“...Creep.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

\------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the massive delay yall! im like. Not Good at this haha. I hope yall like it though! have a great week everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning on making this multichapter if I can, and if anyone would be able to be a beta reader for me possibly? That'd be great!  
> I hope yall liked this so far, haha!


End file.
